


Homecoming

by sophinisba



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Aliens, Drugs, Ghosts, M/M, Queer Themes, Reunions, Tentacles, over 10000 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-23
Updated: 2008-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey and Zeke go back to Herrington for their five year high school reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Layne67 for this story idea and encouraging me when I took a really long time to write it.

By the summer of 2004, five years since Zeke's graduation and four years from Casey's is enough for both of them to have finished college. Zeke's grown up enough (and Casey's toughened up enough, even if he hasn't gotten much taller) that he's stopped trying or pretending to push Casey around. Casey hasn't spoken to his parents in the two years and four months since he told them he and Zeke were more than just roommates and friends, and Zeke doesn't know where his parents were (though that's nothing new). Zeke has a decent job and Casey has a better one, and their apartment isn't a palace but it was starting to feel like home. And New York is far enough from Herrington and high school far enough away from their minds that when Zeke reads out the letter from the Herrington Class of 1999 Reunion Planning Committee, Casey laughs out loud.

"Come back and relive the trauma! Class of '99, the fucked-up-edest in the history of Ohio!"

Casey sometimes gets punchy when he talks about the aliens – middle of the day and completely sober, but he gets punchy. At night sometimes he dreams about them and wakes up shaking (though never screaming, Zeke's noticed) and Zeke finds the pills for him and holds him until he goes still, though they won't get back to sleep. But in daylight he's grinning, giggling, grabbing for the letter. "So many memories!" he enthuses. "Visit the gym! The pool! The football field!"

"Your year was more fucked up," says Zeke, handing it to him and lying back on the couch. "Younger, more impressionable. The ones below you were even worse."

"Nah," says Casey, calming a bit now he's got the letter in hand, reading and thinking and talking at the same time. "Freshman are used to not knowing what's going on. You guys thought you were on top of the world... and then the world turned into a slimy green fucking slippery thing underneath you."

"And on top of us."

"And with tentacles."

"Okay, fine, maybe class of '99 wins, but don't lump me in with 'you guys'. I'm not one of them."

"You did fail to graduate in '98, so, um."

"Right, but I also failed to become an alien, so see? I'm not one – "

"We should go."

"What?"

Zeke sits up to get a better look, because Casey's voice was teasing a minute ago but now it's firm, and yeah, his face is set, like when he decided to quit lying to his parents, and when he told Delilah they needed to fight the aliens.

"We should go to the reunion. We don't have anything to be afraid of back there."

"What's with you?" He's standing up (which means standing over him) in an attempt to seem more formidable than Casey, but there's not much hope of that, really, not when he's got his mind set on something like this. "You don't even want to go back at holidays anymore, and now you want to go back and stand around in that gym with a nametag and schmooze with those losers?"

"No, I want to go back and laugh over the fact that I was ever scared of any of them."

"But you can laugh at them from here," says Zeke. "We're busy."

"It's not till October. We can get time off. Could be good for them too – Herrington hasn't had any surprises in way too long."

"That's the way Herrington likes things."

"Well, yeah, but..." He takes a step closer to Zeke then, which means touching him, and touching his hands to Zeke's chest and staring up at him with his big eyes, making Zeke wonder how he ever thought they looked innocent. "Don't you think it would be good for them to see the alien killer heroes turned into homosexuals?"

A Herrington High class reunion will _not_ be fun. Zeke knows this. "It'll be boring."

"Not with you and me there." Casey's smiling again because he knows he's won, just waiting for the formal surrender.

"Yeah," Zeke says, and that gets him the kiss, so it's not a total loss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mentions the September 11 terrorist attacks.

Zeke and Casey still try to carry a scat pen wherever they go, but they've stopped taking them on planes, which is one of several important reasons that Zeke tries to avoid flying these days. The fact that there hasn't been another alien invasion (that they know of) in almost six years helps him feel less jumpy most of the time, but he thinks it's better to be prepared.

"How likely is it that we'll be there again when they come?" Casey says. "It'll be some other small town, and somebody else will have to figure it out. We can do more good letting other people know what happened than having the two of us carrying tiny weapons around." But he carries one anyway to make Zeke feel better.

Zeke's still got a large stash of the stuff back in the garage at the house in Herrington, and it's a good thing because Zeke gets pulled aside for a "random" search at JFK, and they actually do study the ink pens in his bag and his pocket, and he's glad they don't find any mysterious powder inside.

Casey gets through security with no problem and waits patiently, sending Zeke sympathetic glances but keeping a respectful distance beyond the gate. And for a second (as he's getting felt up in front of a hundred people) Zeke's jealous of the little-boy face that lets Casey get away with anything, but then he remembers Christmas of 2001 and he's grateful that Casey's got it easier this time.

Casey had figured that Christmas was the best time there'd ever be to come out to his parents, not so much because of the changes in his own life – the fact that he and Zeke had been having sex on a regular basis since May and living together since August and actually using the word love since September – as the fact that since September _everyone_ was making changes, thinking about what was really important and what they wanted to do with their lives. Even his parents were using the word love when he talked to them on the phone. And, as he told Zeke later, "I figured they'd be so happy to have me alive that they wouldn't make a big deal about the whole gay thing."

That was the first time Casey'd been on a plane since September 11th. And Zeke should have gone with him, or should have at least admitted that he didn't want to go because he was terrified and asked Casey to stay with him in New York. But instead Zeke just said he didn't care about going home, which probably made Casey think Zeke didn't care about being with _him_, and made the whole misadventure worse than it already was. If Zeke had gone with him they could have just hung out at Zeke's house (well, his parents' house, but his parents were in Japan at the time so it wouldn't have mattered) until it was time to fly back.

As it was Casey decided to come back after three days instead of ten, and Zeke didn't mind paying for the new ticket, but someone (they never found out who) thought the change seemed suspicious. So that on Christmas Eve, Casey not only left his parents' home with no intention of coming back, ever, but missed his flight trying to convince airport security that the change in travel plans was for personal reasons, and not because he wanted to blow anything up.

That meant explaining the whole aliens thing again, since that was the first thing that came up when they ran his name. Casey took his old principled stand of "Yes, it really happened the way we said, and if you think that makes me a freak then fine, but it doesn't have anything to do with what we're talking about now," an argument which he found out worked a lot better with his professors than with the FTA. It eventually meant coming out to them too, and telling them that no, his parents hadn't kicked him out but his dad was cold and his mom wanted to find him a shrink (_again_, he didn't say) and that wasn't how he wanted to spend his holiday. It meant breaking down in tears, and telling them that he loved his boyfriend and he loved his country and he loved New York and begging could he please, please go back to them now.

It was past midnight when he got in, and Zeke wanted to know what the hell had happened but Casey said he'd explain later, that he'd had enough pouring his guts out for this week

Funny how after all that Casey was the one who insisted that flying to Ohio this time made more sense than driving.

And he was probably right. They let Zeke go after five minutes. The flight's smooth and so is Casey's voice, talking to Zeke the whole time. He doesn't hold his hand, knowing that would probably bring more stress than it relieved and knowing something about which battles are worth fighting and when.

Casey also lets Zeke drive the rental car even though they both know Casey's a better driver. Zeke's driving in high school was always more about looking cool than actually being calm, but he's restless with all that sitting and being told what to do, and it feels good to be in some kind of control again.

The rental reminds Zeke a little of his mom's station wagon back when he started driving it, after Elizabeth-who-wasn't-Elizabeth wrecked the GTO. The smell was old-new car, air-freshener and indifference – used but not loved, not sweated in or swerved with or made special. Zeke and Elizabeth-who-_was_-Elizabeth took care of that particular problem pretty quickly, got it nice and dirty, but Zeke never did get used to driving something that looked so normal and suburban on the outside, even if he wasn't really invested in being a rebel by that point. Mostly he just wanted to graduate and get out. And he didn't mind ditching the car – or the girlfriend – when he left for New York.

Casey's quiet now on their way out of Cincinnati, pointing out exits just once, because Zeke's paying attention. Once they're out on open highway Casey says, "Less than an hour and we'll be back at your house."

"Yeah."

"And a hundred scat pens in the box in the garage. Not that we need them."

"Right."

"And more importantly we'll have some food, and a beer, and we'll have a good time scandalizing the locals."

Zeke doesn't say anything.

"And I'm glad you're taking me on a vacation."

"This does not count as a vacation, Casey."

Casey laughs. "Fine then, we can go to Paris in the spring. But I'm glad we're here."

It takes a little while, another minute of staring far ahead at the road and convincing himself, but then he finds it, between the smell of the car and the relief of being safe on the ground and the distant familiarity of Ohio roads, it feels good, and sitting here beside Casey is exactly where he wants to be. It takes a minute but then he can say it and mean it: "So am I."

Casey nods. "Scat pens, dinner, beer, scandal, and then sex on your couch," he says confidently.

Then suddenly there is somewhere else Zeke would rather be, but it doesn't matter. They're on their way.


	3. Chapter 3

Zeke had talked about renting a hotel room but Casey said fuck that, he didn't want some cold, unfamiliar place with stained blankets and thin walls when he had the chance to live out his old fantasy of sex on the couch in Zeke's garage. The fantasy was apparently inspired by a hack drug some asshole made him stick up his nose and born during an intense giggle fit but couldn't be fulfilled right away, what with the way events unfolded that evening, and couldn't be fulfilled after that what with both of them dating girls for the rest of that year and Zeke leaving town for good three days after graduation.

Once they get there Zeke finds that the drugs are still good, safe in the same clear plastic he used to wrap them up the day he left, with the same note warning that they should not be touched "except in case of alien invasion". But Casey declares that the couch really is too manky for sitting on at this point, let alone fucking, but apparently he has (somewhat less developed) fantasies of sex in the rest of the house too, so it all works out.

Zeke's mom wrapped up the living room furniture in clear plastic the last time she left, and a note in the kitchen, addressed to Zeke's dad, doesn't tell where she's off to but says she'll be back in November and gives a cell phone number in case of emergency. Zeke enters it into his own phone while Casey pulls the plastic off the couch and then jumps on it a couple times from different angles to test its resistance.

"You're not tired after all that travel?"

Casey shakes his head and bounces a few times. "Restless. Wanna try?"

"I've already..." but once he looks he realizes it's a new couch, that all the living room furniture must be stuff she bought after he left home. Which makes sense – he remembers she replaced it fairly often when he was a kid too. He thinks kitchen cabinets might be new too, but it's hard to remember. He's suddenly fiercely grateful to his mom for leaving his stuff in the garage alone – even if that means most of the stuff is too far gone for use, it feels like respect, somehow, rather than negligence. He hasn't been up to his old room yet but he's fairly certain that it'll be the way he left it too.

Zeke's mom sent him a key in the mail when she changed the locks on the house last year, and a note that said what she's said on the phone the few times they've talked since he left: _Come back any time you need to._ It never makes Zeke think that his mom's lonely, that she really wants to see him again, just that she means what she says: when _he_ needs to come back, the door will open for him.

"Already?" Casey's gone still sitting on the couch, staring at him. Zeke walks over and stands in front of him, their knees touching.

"I've already decided this couch is good enough."

"Sure is," Casey agrees, standing up so that the rest of their bodies touch as well. "Dinner first though, that was the plan. Sally's at seven, remember?"

The reunion itself is at the school tomorrow, but there's a less formal gathering tonight at the sports bar on Jefferson Avenue.

"We could just order out, stay in," Zeke suggests, letting his lips move very lightly over Casey's open mouth as he speaks, so he can feel Casey smiling, though he isn't sure yet what it means.

"No." Casey's mouth is soft when he kisses, easy and wet and brief. Zeke keeps still and lets Casey finish and end it. "No, this weekend is gonna be all about the long-deferred dreams."

"We could defer some of them a little less."

"No, Zeke, you don't understand, this is gonna be awesome," says Casey, who's started bouncing again on his feet, who hadn't yet turned 21 the last time he was in Herrington. Neither had Zeke, but then he'd been Herrington High's principle supplier of fake IDs. Sally's had never seemed all that exotic or exciting to him.

"Seriously, Sally's? This was one of your high school dreams? A bunch of former Hornets dressed in their old letter jackets sitting around drinking beer and – "

"Yes, exactly, and with smoke and loud pop music and a football game on the big TV." He kisses Zeke again, even more briefly but with a little more force as well, and then starts toward the door. "You'll see, it'll be great."

They ask for Casey's ID at the door, which is expected but makes Zeke grin anyway. They also ask for Zeke's, but they don't spend as much time examining it.

The class of '99 are occupying two of the bigger tables in the back room with the TV and the pool table. It's mostly faces Zeke recognizes but never cared much about. He knows some of their names, has forgotten some, never knew others.

Zeke remembers how often during those first few months after he left he would catch a glimpse of somebody on the street, on the subway, and think he recognized a face from Herrington. It was never a pleasant feeling. Once he got a good look he'd realize – with relief – that they were strangers, didn't even look like the people he knew. And anyway, it wasn't like the people he knew had any reason to be riding the subways of New York. They were busy getting drunk at Sally's.

Then of course there was the first day of his third semester when he spotted Casey Connor in his physics lecture, and an hour of staring didn't turn him into somebody else. That was intentional on Casey's part though. The chance encounters just didn't happen, and suddenly being looked at by twenty people who think they know him – just because they half knew the guy he used to pretend to be – well, he doesn't know how to deal. And then there's the way they're looking at Casey.

Five of the six guys at the nearer table are former football players, and when they stand up to greet the newcomers Casey looks so tiny that Zeke feels the urge to wrap his arms around him – which would probably not be very helpful – or better yet just get out of here, which wouldn't make Casey happy. So he controls himself, even when Gabe Santora of all people grins and claps Casey on the shoulder. Zeke notices that Casey doesn't flinch but doesn't return the smile either. "Casey Connor!" says Gabe, and his smile looks so real it makes Zeke want to scream. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Then Casey does smile, and it's thin but not tight, amused if not really happy. "Things sure have changed, haven't they?"

Stan spends a little more time staring, appraising, and he speaks more slowly. "I didn't expect to see you ever again."

"Is that a nice thing to say, Stan?" Zeke chides him.

"Not a bad thing to say either, just the truth. I mean, yeah, I knew you were coming, but I almost couldn't believe it. I thought the two of you were done with Herrington for good."

Zeke relaxes a little. "Yeah, I guess I kind of figured that too."

"We are, basically," says Casey. "Just needed a little, you know, exorcism or something." He half shrugs and half bounces, and his smile is closer to the goofy one that Zeke's used to.

"Not that, I hope," says Stan. "We've lived enough horror movies for one lifetime already."

Zeke's throat goes a little tight then, and he nods, swallows a couple times to make it go away. He can't help noticing the way Gabe's and the others' faces go distant, almost as if they haven't heard.

Todd calls a waitress over to take their orders, and Zeke thinks Casey gets more pleasure out of ordering his beer than he will from actually drinking it. Zeke doesn't mind doing without alcohol, but he needs some kind of distraction from the smalltalk. He only starts to relax once he's ordered his fries and has the tall plastic glass of Coke. It's too sweet to be satisfying, but he enjoys crunching on the ice. He needs something to look at when he doesn't want to see Gabe's smile, something to swallow when he feels like he can't breathe.

What's always seemed especially creepy to Zeke about post-aliens Herrington is that most of the people here don't seem scared at all. You'd think people who lived through something like that would be looking over their shoulder afterwards, noticing who was acting differently and who was drinking more water than a human really needs.

Zeke thought more people would come to him for the lifesaving/alien-killing homemade drugs after he and Casey and the others told their stories, but it was only a small group that asked for a few of them – Casey, of course. Stan, Delilah, Stokely, four or five other students and a few adults who remembered the fear and the pain before what seemed like a dizzy spell and some lost time.

Nurse Harper asked Elizabeth rather than talk to Zeke herself, but she always had a softer look for him after that, something like gratitude, even if it wasn't quite that.

Everyone else though went back to their beer and their sex and their football games. And Zeke quit dealing and started playing football himself because it felt good to slam into those other guys without needing an excuse for it.

Casey talks with Stan and Zeke listens, and Gabe and Todd and Jason go back to talking amongst themselves. Zeke knows Casey and Delilah and Stokely and Stan all stayed friendly for the rest of that school year, while Zeke spent more of his time with what was left of the football team and the faculty. Zeke went quiet and withdrawn for most of that year, and he finds it's not that hard to do it again now, especially once the food comes, though when Casey slips off to the bathroom Zeke realizes to what extent he's been allowing Casey to hold up their part of the conversation.

"You two live together?" Gabe asks as soon as Casey's out of earshot.

Zeke pushes his food away, feeling more than ever the need to be on guard. "Yeah, a little more than three years now."

Gabe nods. "That's cool. He's looking good, Casey. I mean, you too, but Casey's... Good thing for you two, getting out of here. Cincinnati's far enough and big enough for me, but I can tell Casey's gotten, I don't know, like he's grown into his skin or something since he left."

It's about the last thing Zeke ever expected to hear from the guy who led the almost daily assaults on Casey for over two years. _Who **are** you?_ he wants to say. "I think he might be a little disappointed," he says instead. "He was planning on creating a scandal."

"Seems like you were kind of counting on that too," says Gabe. "If I make like I'm gonna jump him when he comes back, and then you rush in and defend him, does that get you points? 'Cause I'd do that for you, man. Hornets forever and all that."

"Settle down, guys," says Stan, and Zeke notices that the rest of the table has gone quiet again. Maybe they were hoping for a little bit more excitement too.

"Nothing shocks you people, does it?" says Zeke.

"What's 'you people'?"

"Herrington, for fuck's sake."

Gabe shrugs. "2004, man. And this isn't New York but we are civilized."

"Yeah, the way you treated Casey in high school was real civilized."

"Yeah, nice of you to stand up for him all those times you... Oh wait, I mean never."

Casey's back before Zeke can answer, and he doesn't have a good answer to that anyway – never has.

"Am I interrupting something?" Casey says.

"Nothing important," says Zeke.

He thinks Casey might push things but he seems content to let the moment pass. They'll talk it out once they get home, his look says, and he settles back into his conversation with Stan, letting Zeke go quiet again.

"Delilah's not coming, is she?"

"Nah. She sent in a nice response for us to publish in the program though, make sure we all know how successful she is and unfortunately her responsibilities in the Senator's office won't permit it."

"That's awesome for her though," says Casey.

"She answers his mail."

"Yeah, but a year out of college? I bet she moves up fast."

Stan looks doubtful. "She's never gonna run for office though," he says. "Not with the history she's got here – "

"How do you know all this?" Zeke interrupts. "Are you on the planning committee or something?"

Stan laughs. "You doing okay, Zeke? Yes, I make an effort to stay in touch with my old friends, and yes, I'm on the planning committee. You didn't notice my name all over the stuff we sent you?"

Zeke doesn't answer. He hadn't. Hadn't actually really looked at the letter or the form, left most of it up to Casey. Including, he supposed, writing in Casey's information as Zeke's guest. And Stan having read that already could explain to some extent why everyone's so calm about him being here tonight.

"What about Stokely?" says Casey.

Stan shrugs.

"Is she still in Portland?" Casey's voice is lower, cautious and sad. "Have you heard from her?"

"Had an e-mail last year. She wanted money."

"I'm sorry, Stan. I really would've liked to have seen her."

Of all the relationships that ended in the spring of 1999, Stan and Stokely's was the only one that really seemed wrong. Zeke didn't really mind leaving or pay attention to what happened to Elizabeth after he went. Casey said later that the thing with him and Delilah "just didn't work out," but they stayed friendly enough afterwards. Delilah's the only person from Herrington that Casey stays in some touch with these days. Stan and Stokely though were the ones who had really believed they were made for each other. Yeah, the breakup was mutual, but it was hell for both of them.

Not that Stan's getting weepy about it now. "Yeah, well. Lots of people gave up on this place. And I guess she didn't need the exorcism as much as you guys did. Tomorrow's gonna be a good time though. You can meet my wife Carrie, and Gabe's fiancée. And see the school again."

Casey smiles and Zeke smiles back at him, knowing they're both remembering the day they got the letter, which Zeke didn't realize at the time was probably written by Stan.

_More fucked up than anybody ever in the history of Ohio_, he thinks, and it hits him then that with Stokely gone – with Stokely passed out in an alley somewhere, for all he knows – but with Stokely anywhere but here – and with Stan married and happy and with it, and Gabe miraculously no longer homophobic or hostile, with everybody else going about their normal lives, Zeke may well be the most fucked up of anybody here. And everybody else probably figured that out a long time ago.

"Yeah," he says out loud. "Yeah, I'm sure it'll be lovely. I'm having a great time already."


	4. Chapter 4

The waitress at the Perkins at the edge of town and the beginning of the highway (driving out here gave Zeke the urge to keep going, drive back to Cincinnati and hop on the first plane out) is attentive but not intrusive. She comes by to refill their coffee every five minutes or so, which Zeke thinks is probably not the best thing for his nerves right now, but he doesn't stop her.

Casey drinks slowly and his coffee is half cream and a quarter sugar. Zeke's is black and bitter, a satisfying burn in his stomach.

"If the aliens lived on coffee and not water," Casey says when the waitress is out of earshot, "I'd be suspicious. I'd be hiding under the table, actually."

"If they lived on coffee you wouldn't be able to beat them with caffeine, so you might as well surrender," Zeke agrees.

He hasn't slept well. Casey fell asleep a few minutes after he came in Zeke's mouth (in Zeke's bed, since in the end Zeke decided to leave his mom's stuff alone in its clear plastic the way she'd left his) and Zeke, who was used to Casey fading this fast, didn't mind. He'd already had his and he ought to be feeling just as sated and sleepy, but instead he was just as tense as he'd felt in the bar. Only now there was no ambient noise, no food or drink to distract him, no enemy to blame or lash out against. Just the beautiful creature Zeke was lucky enough to touch and tease and talk to whenever he wanted, just this boy sleeping naked underneath the blankets. And Zeke tried to lie still so as not to disturb him, but in his mind he was impatient, pacing like a cat in a cage (and wouldn't Casey laugh if he said that out loud). Asking himself why in hell he'd agreed to this stupid idea, why he kept letting Casey tell him it would all work out fine.

When he did sleep he dreamed he was scaling a sheer sheet of ice, with sharp picks attached to his shoes and his gloves. He had safety gear and helmet and harness and the rope was supposed to be attached to some kind of pulley above, and his buddy down below to catch him if he fell, but instead there was just a rope and a heavy weight trying to drag him down. It was cold and he was sweating and if he fell that would be the end for both of them, four hundred feet (for some reason the number kept running through his mind) down and down, and below that nothing but solid frozen icy blue.

He woke up shivering but it was easy enough to make himself go still again. No way he was going to start being the one to wake up his boyfriend in the middle of the night needing to be coaxed and coddled back to sleep. And the fact that there was a bottle of clonazepam in Casey's bag was irrelevant. Zeke would be fine as soon as they got back home on Monday. After lying there for another half hour he got up and went to check his e-mail at the computer in his mom's study. Friday night and there was nothing new from work, so he started looking for websites about ice climbing, and finally ended up rereading conspiracy sites about the Herrington cover-up until morning, when Casey wandered in from the bedroom wiping sleep from his eyes and talking about pancakes.

"These don't taste nearly as good as they did in high school," Casey says now.

Zeke shrugs. "They were never all that great. It's a chain restaurant."

"Yeah, but it didn't feel like one back then."

"It didn't?"

"No. I mean, I knew it was. My mom and dad and I would sometimes stop at Perkins when we went on road trips when I was a kid, but this one was... I guess this is where I started going around the time I started having friends again. Stan and Stokely and Delilah and me used to come here. It was nice, you know? You could come in the middle of the night, and they never seemed to mind if we stayed for hours just drinking coffee refills."

"Just talking?"

"Yeah."

"Had a lot to talk about with Delilah Profitt, did you?"

"Yeah." Casey mushes together strawberries and whipped cream. "You know, your jealous boyfriend routine is a lot more endearing when it's not directed at people I actually care about."

"I'm sorry," Zeke says immediately. He eats more bacon and the way the grease mixes with the coffee in his back of his throat is getting pretty fucking disgusting, but that's probably how it should be. "I'm sorry she's not coming. It would've been cool to see her and Stokes again. I just never really understood, you know..."

"Why she went out with me?"

"No, why you went out with her, how you could even stand to be with her, after all that shit she pulled before."

Casey laughs. "Hey, I forgave you, didn't I?"

Zeke smiles in acknowledgement, can't quite laugh at that one.

"Nah, Delilah..." Casey continues slowly, thinking. "You know, she always had one face for the rest of the school, and when she was alone with me she was like a completely different person. And both of those personalities, um, I got along with both of them. It was what we needed then."

"Public relations?"

"Well, yeah. You can rag on her for that, but it's what she's good at, right? And it wasn't a bad thing for me either, after everything that happened. If we'd handled it differently I would've been the freak, worse off than I was before, even. But it was the way she talked about it and the way she stayed with me afterwards that kept the rest of the school from getting down on me, or saying it was all something I made up."

"Or imagined when you were high."

"Right. But if Delilah said she saw the same thing, and if she put in the school paper I was the one who stopped it, and if she meant it so sincerely that she was willing to kiss me in public – "

"That's what I don't get though, it _was_n't ever sincere."

"Sure it was."

"Casey."

"It _was_. We really liked each other."

"And the kissing was..."

"Sincere. Yeah, it was. Okay, so we figured out pretty quickly that it wasn't, you know, burning passion or anything..."

"But you kept kissing each other in public because that was what looked good."

"And because Delilah didn't like being alone and neither did I. And because my parents liked it when I had her over. And because she liked having a place to get away from her mom and her mom's boyfriend. Seriously, there wasn't a lot _I_ had to forgive her for. She treated Stan and Stokely worse than she ever treated me."

"And you forgave her for that."

"She apologized, and they forgave her too. We all said and did some pretty stupid things back then. We grow up. We get over it."

Stokely didn't get over any of it, Zeke thinks, but he's not going to bring that up when the atmosphere is this tense already. He finishes his food.

"I'm glad you did," he says, "get over it. I'm glad you came to New York and tracked me down, even after I hadn't been in touch all that time."

"Yeah," says Casey, "I should hope you'd be grateful."  
When they get back there's a message from Casey's mom on the answering machine. Her voice is polite, cautious, the message possibly rehearsed, although it falls apart pretty quickly.

"Hello, this is a message for Casey Connor. Stan's mother called me, she said Stan saw you last night and they thought you might be staying there. I hope I'm not... Casey, we didn't know you were coming home. It would be really good to see you again. Give us a call, okay? The number's the same. Love you."

The _love you_ is quiet and quick, almost embarrassed sounding, and then it clicks off.

At first they both just stand there, staring at the phone.

"So," says Zeke.

"I should probably have been expecting that," says Casey.

"She's well connected, your mom."

"Yeah, and there were a lot of people there last night."

"You erased their number from your cell phone after that Christmas."

"Yeah, I guess I could pretend I blocked it from my memory around that time too."

"That's plausible, I guess."

Casey nods too quickly, uncertain. "Trauma, you know. I mean, yeah, it would mean I'd blocked out the memory of pretty much my whole childhood, but..."

"Trauma, yeah." Zeke pauses. "Do you want to see them, Casey?"

"I don't... I don't get why I'm feeling guilty about this suddenly. I know I don't want to see _him_. I don't really want to see her either except, you know, I know she wants to see me. So. I should probably call her."

"Only if you want to."

"Well, yeah." They're grown-ups, Casey doesn't have to add, _obviously_ he won't do anything he doesn't want to do. "But I... It's not like I can say we'll just do it next week if I'm not in the mood today. I should take advantage of the time I'm here."

"Unless you wanted to take advantage to go sit by the mill pond or walk out by the caves, or all the other stuff we didn't do together back when we lived here."

Casey smiles. "But no pressure or anything, right?"

"From me, no. Just. For me seeing all those guys last night is enough Herrington socializing to last me for another five years. I want some more alone time or some alone-with-Casey time if I'm gonna get through the reunion tonight. But if you want to take on homophobic parents too – "

"They're not," Casey says, "you shouldn't say that."

Zeke just looks at him.

"They're _not_," he insists. "Seriously, they're just. They reacted badly at first and I didn't feel like dealing at the time. But they've had some time to think about things, and I've had some time..."

"How 'bout I call them?" Zeke grabs the phone.

"Zeke."

"No, I think that takes care of things. If they're not willing to talk to me then we know they're not – "

"Just let me handle this, okay? You need your alone time anyway." Zeke hadn't thought that sounded as stupid when he said it as when Casey repeated it in an angrier voice.

"That's not what I meant. I'm not letting you face them alone again."

Casey glares at him. "I'm not helpless without you, you know."

Zeke stops himself from shouting back. "Of course you're not," he says quietly.

"And my parents aren't monsters, so just... Give me the phone okay? And go... take a nap or something."

Zeke hadn't realized he was clutching at the phone. He holds out his hand, long loose arm across the distance between them. Casey takes it to Zeke's bedroom and closes the door.  
And it's fine, all of it. She comes to pick him up. Casey can call Zeke on his cell if he needs anything. Zeke never manages to sleep during the day, so he goes for a walk by the mill pond. The white geese are just as hostile as when he was a kid, and it doesn't seem to make any difference how much taller he's gotten. They're just as good as football players or NYU students at letting him know he's out of place. They actually chase him off the path with their honking and stalking, which is not a good feeling for Zeke, especially with little kids watching. Stupid. And, paddleboats or not, wouldn't have been a very romantic scene if he'd convinced Casey to come along.

At least Casey wouldn't have been intimidated by a pack of fucking geese. Or maybe he would have, would've changed his path, gone to walk somewhere else, but he wouldn't have _minded_ it, that's the difference. Casey's good at keeping his cool. When they were in college Casey would work on his papers and assignments steadily throughout the semester, and then during the last week he'd bring Zeke tea before going to bed, letting Zeke stress through the all-nighters on his own. He's the same way with the job he has at the paper now – he doesn't like every assignment he gets, and he's not satisfied with everything he writes, but he goes ahead and does it. Casey talks to strangers. He does yoga. He has lunch with him mom for the first time in almost three years and acts like it's a mild inconvenience but better than waiting another five. And Zeke, when he stops and thinks about it, knows that Casey's right.

He's quiet at first when she drops him off back at Zeke's place.

"How's Mrs. Connor?" Zeke asks.

"She's... fine." He sits on the living room couch (Zeke's taken the plastic off again) and doesn't bounce. Zeke sits down at the other end with his feet on the cushion, facing him but not touching. "She says family's family."

"Huh."

Casey wrings his hands. It's his way of resisting biting his nails so Zeke doesn't interfere. "You know, the last time..."

"Yeah?" Zeke sure as hell knows what time he's talking about.

"It's not like they threw me out on the street or anything."

"Right."

"They didn't even yell. They were just kind of..."

"Disappointed?"

"No. Well, a little bit, but more just concerned."

"Uh huh."

"Which is normal. I mean, any parent would be. Or, I mean..."

"I know what you mean." Casey has these moments every once in a while when he realizes he's taken having parents that care about him for granted. He's been facing forward and talking to the empty room but now he looks apologetically at Zeke. Zeke wishes he would stop worrying about it, but it's nice to have him looking at him. "So how did she seem today? Disappointed? Concerned?" Zeke thinks any parent who raised Casey ought to be bursting with pride just about all the time.

"Concerned, I guess. Nervous. But nice. She was trying really hard."

"Okay."

"So. And they want to try again. She invited us to come back for Christmas."

"Us?"

"Yeah."

Zeke's annoyed, but he's not gonna snap. He's pushed enough already today, doesn't need to add any more pressure to what Casey's dealing with. "What did you say?"

"That we've got plans already."

Zeke smiles. "Sounds like a good answer to me." When Casey doesn't react he adds, "If you wanted we could always come to Herrington and stay here, or at the hotel if my folks happen to be around. Just see the parents at whatever limited hours we want."

Casey shakes his head. "No," he says, "not Christmas. Not this year anyway. My mom said she'd like to come see us in New York sometime though. You know, just a meal or two, and maybe stop by to see the apartment." He pauses, moves a little closer to where Zeke's sitting. "Would that be okay with you?"

"Yeah, man, of course." And since he can he moves closer again, sits next to Casey and starts combing his fingers through his hair. Casey leans into it, relaxes against Zeke's shoulder. They stay like that for a while, and Zeke thinks of their "plans" for next Christmas, which are to repeat the last two years: stay at home at their apartment, watch movies, drink, make love, and fall asleep on the couch.

"Nice idea you had," Zeke says, "coming back to Herrington. I'm glad we did it. You weren't expecting this thing with your mom, but it worked out okay, right?"

"Yeah," says Casey.

"And we got to hang out at my house. Have sex in my old bed. You drank at Sally's and you talked to all those guys and got to watch them deal with the fact that we're together."

Casey starts moving as he listens, climbing on top of him as Zeke moves to accommodate him, lies back with his head on the arm of the sofa. "Yeah," Casey agrees, "that was fun. All of that." He keeps moving, balancing his weight on arms and legs and Zeke and the furniture. Pressing against him in other places too, and Casey fits perfectly there.

"So, not that I'm trying to weasel out of anything..." says Zeke, holding on to him.

"Which I wouldn't let you do anyway..."

"But what if we just said 'Mission accomplished' to the whole thing? There's no real point in going to the reunion itself, is there?" He's _mostly_ joking, but the idea of sticking around here seems more and more appealing as Casey keeps shifting on top of him. "We could just stay in and" – keep pushing, he thinks – "hang out."

Casey with his strong arms, Casey with his tight jeans, Casey with his pretty little smirk is all Zeke can or wants to look at. He lets his head fall back, lets Casey kiss him long and deep. When it's over Casey's face hovers inches above him, looking into his eyes. "Zeke?" he says, speaking slowly and clearly and with great affection.

"Yeah?"

"No fucking way."


	5. Chapter 5

They have a good laugh practicing the waltz in Zeke's living room, but it turns out there's no dance at the school gym, just a dinner in the cafeteria.

"At least it's catered," Zeke says to Casey as they line up for their food. "Not so many bad memories for you here, are there?"

"Not to do with aliens anyway. Think any of the cool kids will let us sit at their table tonight?"

"We _are_ the cool kids now."

"Sure," Casey says, grinning.

They sit at an empty table, but a few minutes later Stan shows up with a pretty but tired looking woman and a small baby, who immediately becomes the focus of Casey's attention. Unlike his boyfriend, Zeke doesn't have much to say to a baby, so he tries chatting with Stan and Carrie. Soon enough he realizes that he doesn't have much to say _about_ a baby either, and it's hard to talk about anything else with new parents whose baby is right there.

Zeke is annoyed and bored. And, same as last night, everyone else is more or less happy to ignore him while he concentrates on his food and drink. When other people's plates and cups are empty Zeke volunteers to go back and get refills so they can concentrate on making googly eyes at little Christine.

By the time Gabe and his girlfriend show up he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. When he's done pissing he decides he doesn't really want to go back, unless it's to pull Casey away from the others and go on a tour of the school. It's nice to be alone for a minute anyway, have a chance to think. He wishes he didn't have to see his own reflection in the mirror though.

It's just too weird, seeing his face in this setting and seeing how much it's changed. There were a few months there, right before the aliens, when he spent more time in this bathroom than he did in classes, making deals, keeping cool, ignoring the kids in the stalls, whether they were taking a shit or nursing a bloody nose. Zeke never worried back then about how other people felt or what they thought about him. He liked the look of his face in the mirror. He never minded drawing attention to himself.

He pulls one of the pens out of his pocket – he usually just carries one but he's brought three tonight, for old times' sake. He never used his own stuff back then, but maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea now – give him some extra energy, some extra distraction, some extra assurance he's not someone else in his own slightly aged skin.

"Not the best idea you've had," says Casey from behind him, and Zeke sees both their reflections in the mirror and doesn't turn around, doesn't answer, just goes ahead with it and squints against the burn in his eyes, the sharp sudden headache he's only felt once before and the memories that come back with the pain.

"But I guess you've had worse," Casey finishes. "Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," says Zeke, turning around, pulling out another pen. "You want some?"

"No, thanks, and I've got my own." He pats his pocket.

"You need to save that, in case you need to –"

"Right, it's okay. We can go home, if you want. I didn't realize this was such a big deal for you. I wouldn't have –"

"It's not a big deal." Zeke's feeling a little dizzy and puts out a hand to lean against the wall. Too bad there are no chairs in here. "I'm just bored, that's all."

"So come back and talk to us?"

"I'm bored with those people."

"You've never even met them. Come one, Carrie's really nice, Christine's adorable, and Danielle's amazing."

"She's not –"

"She's the person who turned Gabe into a reasonable guy. You don't think that takes a pretty impressive personality?"

"We already talked to people last night. I thought we were gonna go back to some of those places, overcome your fears…"

"Um, the place where you kissed Marybeth is not actually a particularly romantic one for me."

"You could reclaim it for yourself."

Zeke grins and Casey's eyes narrow with annoyance but then Zeke's knees collapse. His hand is sliding down the wall and Casey catches him, helps him sit down without too much violence.

"I'm fine," Zeke says quickly.

"Sure you are." Zeke leans forward and Casey rubs his back. "We'll sit here for a few minutes and then go back to your place."

"No. We have to – "

"We don't have to do anything, Zeke."

"Yes we –"

"No, we don't. Look, I came back here because I wanted to let people know I'm okay with who I am now. I wasn't planning on talking to my mom but that worked out okay too. Drinking at Sally's was nice, and your bed was…." Zeke's feeling a little stronger and he sits back so he can see Casey's smile. God, he doesn't get tired of that smile, even when Casey's being smug and superior like this. "Your bed was _really_ nice, but I don't really need...these places. They don't mean a lot to me, okay? I was joking about wanting to go back to the gym and the pool. I don't want to go back to that fucking locker room and I'm not crazy about sitting on the floor of this bathroom either. And I love you, I really do, but I have no desire to make out with you in the science storeroom."

The smile's gone and Zeke decides he doesn't want to look at Casey anymore. "That's not even what I'm talking about." He leans to the side, pushes himself up with his hands. "I'm just doing this for you, you know. But if you'd rather spend time with Gabe Santora –"

"Gabe's a lot more fun to be around at the moment," Casey snaps, and then softens again, standing up and reaching for him. "But it's fine, like I said, we don't need to stay."

But Zeke's feeling steadier on his feet now and he doesn't want to be handled, talked out of his plans or his bad mood. He shoves Casey's hand away and starts walking away. "Don't worry about me," he says. "Have fun with your new friends. I'll come back and find you when I'm done seeing what I want to see."

"Does this place just make you wanna act like your eighteen-year-old self, or is it the drugs?" Casey follows him into the hallway but stops when they get out there; they're heading in opposite directions. "Don't wander into the pool and drown yourself," he says. "Call me when you're done being an asshole."

Zeke just waves as he walks away.


	6. Chapter 6

Fucking forgiveness. Fucking getting along with people as if nothing bad ever happened. Fucking complacency, surviving an alien invasion and getting out of Herrington just to come back to the same fucking high school. Fucking straight people with their small talk and their cute little kids, and since when does Casey buy into all that? What if when they get back to New York starts talking about wanting children? He's never mentioned it before, but what if an evening with the Rosados changes his mind? They should never have come. Zeke hopes getting back to their tiny apartment will put the thought out of his head. Fucking Ohio and its wide open spaces, making people think they can do whatever they want and there'll always be somewhere to run away to.

Zeke doesn't want to go outside and he doesn't really want to see the biggest rooms in the school – the cafeteria, the gym, the pool. He heads to the other side of the school, walks straight down the hallway between the evenly spaced classrooms and lockers.

Everything looks pretty much the same, but Zeke spots changes here and there. Even at night the library is lighter and more open than it was. They've taken out a few bookcases to make room for more computers, and through a wall of glass blocks he glimpses another room full of them.

He tries the door to the faculty lounge and finds it locked. It probably wouldn't be too difficult to pick it open, but he doesn't really care to make the effort.

He expects the bio lab to be locked too, but the door handle turns with a soft click and lets him in. It looks different, like there's been more money spent here too. There are a few newish computers, and a more ambitious teacher's come in and put up displays – models of human torsos and fetuses and eyes and ears, with parts cut away and the inner workings clarified in primary blue and red. The only light in the room is the fluorescent white over the aquariums. Zeke leans forward to stare at the fish, again wishing he didn't have to see his own reflection in the glass.

"Son of a bitch, I knew I forgot something," Mr. Furlong says close to Zeke's ear.

Zeke scrambles so hard he half falls backward and knocks over the giant inner ear, catches himself against the fish tanks hard enough to spill water over the top. He sees his old bio teacher with a set of keys in one hand, the other one wrapped up in a clumsy white bandage. An eye patch over one eye, a smirk on his face.

"Zeke, come on, I need to lock up. I know you always liked bio, but it's getting late."

"This isn't your room," says Zeke.

"What?" He tilts his head.

"You don't teach at this school anymore. It's been Mr. Morales for six years because you turned into an alien and then I stuck a pen in your eye and killed you." He grabs another pen out of his pocket – yeah, he knew it was worth bringing extra tonight, just like it was worth carrying them around every single day for the last six years. He holds it up in a tight fist. "And I'll do it again."

"Oh, don't think I don't remember that." Furlong chuckles. "Hurt like a bitch too."

"I don't care," says Zeke. _But what about the body?_ "I don't – " There hadn't been one, not for Furlong or Drake or Marybeth, not that Zeke had ever seen. Casey's theory was that they'd kept drying up until the dust blew away into nothing. Zeke's was that the FBI had taken them. Neither of them had ever doubted they were really dead.

Zeke is trying to talk tough but catches himself backing away. He's strangling with panic and makes himself stop and take a deep breath. His eyes are stinging again and he wishes he could close them for a minute, but these things move fucking fast, he remembers. "The fact that you're not real," he says, "will not stop me from slaying you like the righteous defender of humanity that I am."

"Go ahead then," Furlong says with a shrug. "Like I said, it hurt. But it's not like it's something we can't handle. I get the feeling it's not really what you want though."

"What?"

"Well, if you're intending to kill me, why are you still standing there talking?"

"Because I'm losing it?" He presses the heel of his hand to his forehead, blinks a few times, but Furlong's still standing there, shaking his head.

"Because you want a conversation. You want some answers. Well, here I am. Ask away."

Zeke backs away again because he's afraid he'll fall if he keeps standing here. The alien, or ghost, or hallucination, or what-the-fuck-ever, follows him, but slowly, allowing Zeke to put more distance and table-desks between them.

He keeps a tight grip on the pen. He can't think of anything to say.

"Fine then, I'll start," says Furlong. "How 'bout this: you could have stopped it sooner."

"What?"

"A lot easier too, with minimal loss of life and" – he looks down at his bandaged hand – "limb."

"I'm not letting the ghost of a fucking alien lecture me about what I should've –"

"Listened to Casey earlier instead of paying so much attention to Marybeth."

"Casey didn't know it was her either. I did listen to him, or I wouldn't have killed you."

"But you could have stopped it way before that, kept that thing from biting me. You were a better scientist than me. You should've recognized the signs, stopped me from putting it in the tank in the first place."

"What fucking _signs_? It's not like anything like this ever happened to us before."

"You should've stopped me, Zeke."

"Stop saying that!" Zeke yells, aware that arguing with the ghost of an alien is no less crazy than letting it lecture him, but he couldn't stand to let this guy have the last word. "You were the teacher."

"That never made you respect anyone's authority before."

"Don't bring Elizabeth into this."

"I didn't. I'm talking about Marybeth."

Zeke's back hits the wall and Furlong is still moving toward him. He fumbles behind him with his free hand and, yes, the door to the supply room is in reach. He opens it behind him, backs out quickly and slams it shut again, so hard he's afraid he'll shatter the door's window, but it holds. Furlong still watches him, and again Zeke sees the shadow of his own scared face in the glass.

And then he sees another face behind him.

"Nice to see you again," she says. "I've been waiting for you to show up here."

He whirls around to face her, holding up the pen again. "Is that really necessary, Zeke?" She smiles, lowers her voice conspiratorially. "You said yourself we're not even real."

It must be true. She doesn't even look real. Marybeth hasn't aged a day – same fresh face, wispy long blonde hair, a smile that flashes between shy and mischievous. It's become the stuff of nightmares for both of them, though Casey's are more vivid, more violent. Zeke's dreams never make enough sense to scare him that much. He'll up feeling wired and confused, glad he can't remember what he dreamed, and he never tells Casey why he's so tense on those mornings.

"I'm not scared," Zeke says.

"Of course not." She lunges at him and he stabs, but she ducks easily out of reach, laughing. "You're a lot less fun than the last time we were in here together!"

"I don't make out with alien monsters anymore. I stopped doing that a long time ago."

"Are you completely sure of that, Zeke?"

He tries again. Useless. She's way too quick.

"Don't you ever wonder about your little boyfriend?" she teases. "Don't you ever think he's too good to be true? He seems to have all of Herrington completely charmed. That doesn't strike you as strange, unexpected?"

"He's fucking charming, okay? It's the twenty-first century here."

"Just _saying_," she says with a shrug. "I mean, come on, it's not like you could tell who was an alien the last time we were in here together. Remember that, Zeke?" She steps closer and, heart pounding, he lets her. If they're touching, if she thinks he's going to kiss her, she won't be fast enough to get away next time. Marybeth says, "Don't those bug eyes ever seem a little…alien to you? Doesn't it make you nervous to be fucking something like that?"

Zeke raises the pen again, feeling her hand on the back of his neck. He ought to strike now, but he has to say something first: "No, it doesn't. Not ever. If you turned everyone else on this planet into pod people, I would still trust Casey Connor. So shut your filthy little –"

It's at that point that the fingers on his neck _slither_ down under his shirt, and for two seconds all his firm resolve shudders into nausea. He starts to fall and she catches him in five places at once, and instead of shutting her mouth she opens it wide and the spike starts to grow out.

He's lost his grip and angle he needed to get at her eye. He jabs her where he can and hits her in the neck, hard and sharp enough to make a tiny puncture, but it closes up before his eyes. At the same time the spike reels back into her mouth, and her scream isn't quite human but Zeke can still here his name in it, and the note of betrayal. As if she has any right to be surprised.

She's weakened and Zeke gives her a shove that knocks her down. Her limbs and tentacles are flailing, knocking chemicals and specimens off the shelves and shattering their containers on the floor. He grabs the pen from where it fell. Marybeth's voice is weirdly calm and quiet when she says "You're wasting a perfectly good weapon on a drone. It's not me. It was never me."

Zeke doesn't waste time answering her with words this time. He kneels on top of her, pins her down, and before she can say another word he stabs hard, straight through the eye and deep into her brain or whatever lives in its place. The long tentacles wrap around him again but they lose strength as soon as they touch him. Zeke holds still until the shuddering stops and he untwists himself from the dried up stalks.

He falls back against the wall for a minute and then realizes he doesn't have time to rest. He stands up and looks through the door back to the bio lab. There's no sign of Furlong.


	7. Chapter 7

Zeke stumbles back through the empty classroom to the empty hallway, clumsy with adrenalin and terror. All he wants to do is scream Casey's name, but he knows he should be stealthier than that, he should at least to pretend to be calm.

He feels his pockets again – only one pen left, but he'd forgotten he's also got his cell phone. Too bad he'll sound like a maniac if he tries to talk. Too bad he doesn't have time to text with his shaking fingers.

"That was quick," says Casey on the other end.

Too quick. He didn't give himself time to figure out what to say before he called. He isn't even sure what he wants. "Casey."

"Are you ready to go home? The Rosados are leaving already too."

"Don't go with them," Zeke says without thinking.

"Well, obviously." He sounds tired, still annoyed if not angry. "Are you gonna come back and say goodbye?"

Zeke shakes his head, then remembers he needs to talk. "Can't."

"Okay. Where are you? I'll come meet you."

It can't be around other people. Who knows if they're even people anymore? It can't be out here in the open. It can't be in the fucking science rooms with the rotting alien corpse. "The locker room," he says.

"Are you serious? You really do have your heart set on this romantic revisiting bullshit, don't y –"

"Casey. Don't let anybody follow you. Be careful, okay?"

"Are you okay, Zeke?"

"No."

"Do you –"

"Just come and meet me, okay? And watch the people around you. And keep the pen handy, yeah?"

There's a pause, then, "Yeah, whatever you say. I'll see you in five minutes," and the call cuts off. Meaning Casey's decided Zeke's too crazy to try to argue with. Fine, he can worry about that later. He runs toward the far end of the building.  
The locker room looks just about the same too, but it's the sweat smell that hits him, makes him want to throw up. It's worse than anything he's seen tonight. But Zeke has to keep it together. He doesn't know what's coming. Sure, he'd like to think it's just Casey, and they can slip out through the door by the gym, straight into the parking lot. And no one will notice, no one will follow them. That would be nice.

When he hears footsteps he stands up straight, concentrates on not making any noise.

"Zeke, are you there?"

He sounds nervous, and soon enough he'll be angry. But Zeke can't take any chances. He'd like to think it's just Casey, but he needs to know for sure.

He tackles him coming around a corner, shoves him against the bank of lockers he's hidden behind, and kisses so he won't hit or yell. Kisses Casey's jaw, his neck, and presses against him with his hands and the rest of his body.

Casey laughs, doesn't try to push him away. "Not now," he says. "I'm tired, there's a lock digging into my back, and this place smells like a beating." But when Zeke kisses him on the lips he kisses back. Casey's his. Zeke takes a few more seconds to enjoy it, to pretend this is just a _normal_ incidence of making out in an inappropriate place.

But he can't quite stand to look in his eyes, and the whole time he's pressing against Casey's hips, feeling Casey just starting to get hard, he's also paying attention to what's in his pockets – one left, for each of them. He grabs for it, and at the same time he grabs Casey's arm and twists it around behind him.

"What the _fuck_, Zeke?!"

Casey yells and struggles to get free. Zeke keeps his voice low, his hold tight. He just wants to get things under control. "The aliens. They're back."

"No they're fucking not!"

"I got Marybeth, but Furlong's still out there somewhere. And there could be – she said – Casey, I need you to take a hit."

Casey stops fighting his hold then, and his voice is still and angry and cold when he says, "Zeke, stop it."

"I'm not asking, Casey."

Casey shakes his head. "One of us needs to stay sane and it's obviously too late for you. Listen, we're not in high school anymore, okay? We're not under attack. You just need to calm down and –"

"Take it in the eye if you want to make things difficult." Zeke holds the thing like a knife, inches away from Casey's face, ready to stab him if need be. Anything to know that it's really him, that he hasn't lost his Casey forever.

"Fine, you asshole. I'm taking it, see?"

Zeke watches carefully this time. None of that fake sniffing he let Marybeth get away with. (And that was where he could have stopped it before, if he'd just paid more attention.) When Casey hands the empty pen back to him he's trembling a little and it reminds Zeke of how he looks when he wakes up from the night terrors.

"You okay?" And it makes him want to help, the way he usually can when Casey's scared, just by being there for him, but right now Casey's scared of Zeke more than anything else.

"No, I'm not okay, I'm just –"

"I'd take one too, to show you, but I've only got one left, and Furlong –"

"I understand," Casey says quickly. "I don't need you to. I think we should just go. Get back to your place and get some time to think, okay?"

"You mean time for me to calm down."

"Well, yeah."

"I don't need –"

"You're not in any condition to fight." Casey turns to leave and trips over the bench. Zeke tries to catch him from falling, but Casey twists out of his hands and hits the floor hard. He yells and clutches his knee.

"Casey, come 'ere."

Zeke wants to help him stand up, or carry him if he has to. Mostly he just wants to touch him, but Casey kicks him away and screams, "Don't you touch me!" He keeps yelling, louder and louder, and thrashing so hard Zeke's afraid he'll hurt himself worse. He could hit his head on the bench or the lockers or the floor. He could –

"Casey, stop, calm down." Casey's still fighting but Zeke won't back off this time, gets a hold on him again and keeps talking, "It's okay, you're right, we should go home," and even, "I'm sorry," but Casey's screaming so loud he probably doesn't hear a word.

And Zeke doesn't hear anything else either. No footsteps, none of the other yelling, until there are other hands on him, pulling them apart, and when he grabs for Casey again a fist comes at his face and he can't see anything at all, and all he can hear is alarm bells inside his head.


	8. Chapter 8

Zeke's head knocks against something and he's surprised it doesn't split open. When he moves his mouth to swear he tastes blood. When he opens his eyes he's surprised to find himself in the back seat of a car. He hurt so much he thought he must be lying on hard concrete.

If Casey were sitting next to him he'd take his hand, try to say something reassuring. But Casey's in the front seat, arms wrapped around his chest, still shaking. Danielle is driving and Gabe is in the back seat with Zeke, watching him.

"Who hit me?" says Zeke.

"I did," Gabe answers.

No one seems to want to explain any more than that. Zeke closes his eyes.

When they get to the house Gabe has to help him out of the car. He starts toward the door leaning on Gabe, but Casey purposefully walks with them, lets Zeke put his other arm around him. Casey digs into Zeke's pants pocket for the house key and lets them in. Casey pulls the plastic off the living room couch and they help him lie down. Then there's some quiet arguing that Zeke doesn't really understand. He drifts for a few more minutes.

"Here," Casey says. Zeke doesn't open his eyes, but he guesses Casey's kneeling by the couch. He puts an ice pack in Zeke's hand and brings it up to his cheek and eye. "Hold it there."

"Are they gone yet?" Zeke asks.

"Who, the aliens?"

Zeke grimaces. "Gabe and what's-her-name."

"No, they're still here. You might have more of a chance of convincing them it's safe to leave than I could."

"Okay." He opens the eye that's not covered and sees them standing a few feet behind Casey. "Are you here to make sure I don't try to hurt Casey?"

"Yes," says Danielle.

Zeke doesn't know what to say. He could apologize to Casey and to them, could try promising that he's over it, that even if he did still think Casey was an alien he wouldn't be up to moving anymore. Instead he just says, "Thank you. Thanks for helping him out."

Casey turns his head to watch them, and Gabe whispers something in Danielle's ear. After a few more second she nods.

"You got our numbers?" Gabe asks Casey.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Anything at all, I mean it."

"Even if he's not doing anything, Casey," Danielle adds. "Even if it's just a bad feeling."

"Okay," says Casey. "I'll call you tomorrow anyway, just to check in. Thank you."

"Sure." Gabe turns around with a little shrug while Danielle keeps watching them, less sure about leaving. He tugs a little at her hand and they go.

"What was that about?" Zeke asks.

"Well, I spent half the evening convincing them you're actually fun to be around most of the time. Then I got to try to convince them you're not abusive."

"Abusive? Hey, who's the one with the black eye here?"

"Which might have been easier," Casey continues, as if Zeke hadn't said anything, "if I weren't raving myself."

"Nice of them to be concerned. Does Danielle know what Gabe used to do to you?"

Casey shrugs. "I think she has some idea, yeah."

"That doesn't scare her?"

"I don't think she gets scared easily. You'd have a better idea if you'd spent some more time with them tonight."

"Yeah." Zeke closes his eyes. "God, I'm so fucking embarrassed."

"Hey, look on the bright side."

"Yeah?"

"I think we managed to cause a scandal after all."

He'd like to open his eyes and see the grin he knows Casey's wearing, but it hurts too much.

"Mission accomplished then. I'm sorry, Case."

"Go to sleep, man. We'll talk about it later."

Zeke does his best. He imagines himself a mask for anesthesia and counts backward from a hundred in time to the pain pulsing in his head.  
Zeke wakes himself up saying Casey's name, and Casey walks in from the bathroom, looking mostly like a black silhouette. The sun isn't up yet and the only light is coming from behind him, and Zeke's vision isn't the greatest.

"I looked through the medicine cabinet," Casey says. "There's Advil and Aleve, and you're mom's got a prescription bottle of Vicodin."

Zeke shakes he head. "I don't think I deserve to feel better."

"Oh, shut up."

"Any anti-psychotic drugs in my mom's collection?"

"I think we just have to wait for the other one to wear off." He paces a couple times around the living room. "Don't tell the others, but, earlier? After you made me take the hit and you were trying to grab me again? I'm pretty sure I saw you with tentacles."

Zeke closes his eyes and sighs quietly. "Who'm I gonna tell?"

"Good point. Here." Casey hands him a glass of water and two pills – Zeke isn't sure which. He swallows them. "Drink the rest of that too, and then go back to sleep," Casey says, and heads back to the bathroom.

As Zeke's drinking the water he realizes he has to piss, which is a shame, because he'd rather not get up ever again. He hears the toilet flush and the urge to use it himself gets stronger. Zeke groans as he makes himself sit up on the couch. Weird that Casey didn't shut the door.

It takes Zeke a minute to get across the room without falling over. When he makes it to the bathroom, blinking in the brighter light, he finds Casey sitting on the floor, calmly emptying tubes full of white powder into the toilet.

"What are you doing?"

Casey just rolls his eyes and goes on with his task. Yeah, okay, pretty stupid question, considering.

"Casey, stop it."

Casey ignores him and Zeke has an urge to stop him physically, which he thinks he could still do, even in the shape he's in. But he's done pushing Casey around.

"I have to piss," Zeke says.

"Fine, I'm almost finished." And he is. Zeke watches him dispose of the last of it. Last hope, last defense, whatever. Zeke just watches.

When he comes out Casey's sitting on the couch. Zeke goes to sit next to him.

"I'm thinking," Casey says, "when we get back to New York, we get rid of the stuff we have there too. Those things are more trouble than they're worth. Carrying them around just keeps us scared."

Zeke shakes his head. "It didn't work out the way it was supposed to this time, and maybe I need to make new stuff, but you never know –"

"The aliens aren't coming back, Zeke. You know how all this time we've been carrying pens around, for your peace of mind? I figured out last night that was really not the best thing for your peace of mind. We need to stop thinking about it all the time."

"Next thing I know you'll be saying it never happened in the first place. That it was just the drugs."

"No," Casey said simply. The adults in Casey's life had started with that explanation while the invasion was still happening and they'd never stopped, but Casey had never gone along, never given in. "No I won't."

Zeke thinks he'd do better at this conversation if he weren't exhausted and in pain and on several drugs that he doesn't know a lot about. On the other hand, it doesn't seem right to back away. And he's feeling wired again, knows he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep if he tried.

"How come you didn't believe me?"

"What?"

"In the middle of it, when I told you I saw them, you were so sure I was crazy or on drugs or something."

"Well, you _were_."

"Right, I know, but I'm asking –"

"Um, I didn't think about it so much at the time, but…two things, I guess. One of them is that I killed it, the other time. And I still get scared, yeah, when I'm asleep or when I'm not thinking straight. But I killed her and I felt it. I _know_ Marybeth's not coming back."

Zeke doesn't shrug because he doesn't want to seem uncaring and he doesn't want to move, but he's not convinced. He was the one who killed Furlong the first time, so how he was scared of him tonight?

"What else?"

"Um, well, like I said, not a lot of time to think about it then, but…when you said you'd stick it in my eye if I didn't cooperate?"

"That was just to scare you," Zeke says quickly, his face flushing hot with the shame of the memory.

"Right, but. Just taking it like I did, if I'd been…if you'd been right, that would have killed me. I don't think you would have taken that chance if you were thinking straight.

Zeke thinks about that for a while and then nods. "That's what I told her," he says.

"Who?"

"Marybeth." Zeke realizes he still hasn't explained exactly what happened and he takes the time to do so now, being sure to include all the times when he recognized for himself it must not be real. As if that'll win him back some points.

Casey listens when Zeke tells him how Marybeth tried to get him to turn against him, groans ("Like I haven't heard that one before!") on the line about his eyes being alien, laughs out loud over Zeke saying he'd trust Casey Connor if aliens took over the rest of the world.

"You could've gotten her sooner if you hadn't taken the time to defend my honor."

"Yeah," Zeke says, and his mouth feels dry, "I think I've had enough _could'ves_ and _should'ves_ for tonight."

Casey laughs again. "It's morning now," he says, nodding toward the window and the cool pale light, "but I agree with the sentiment." He squeezes Zeke's hand and gets up to make breakfast.

Later he talks to Gabe and Danielle on the phone, thanks them for their help last night and calmly assures them that everything's fine, yes, and they're still leaving this afternoon. No, no reason to come back and check on them. He calls Stan and then his mom and makes similar reassurances, and Zeke's feeling a little lonely on the couch, wondering if Casey's going to call Delilah next or maybe try to track down Stokely in Portland, but he finally quits them and comes back to sit with him again.

"About could'ves and should'ves…" Zeke says.

"Yeah?"

"I think even if I stay away from the scat, Marybeth and Furlong and a bunch of other ghosts are gonna keep hounding me until I…"

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Okay. You should be, but I get it. You were on drugs and –"

"I'm sorry about before. I'm sorry about when we were in school, before the aliens, and I liked you, even if I didn't really understand it that way then, and people were hurting you, and I could have helped you, lots of times, and I didn't. And that really, really sucks, and I'm sorry."

Casey stares at him for what feels like an hour and then says, "You don't think I forgave you for that a long time ago?"

"I guess you must have, to be willing to hang out with me. But I never really said, so. There."

"'So there,'" Casey repeats, smirking. "Not the best conclusion for an apology I've ever heard."

"Yeah, well, I'm sort of new at this."

Casey nods. "It's a really good start. I know you mean it and…I meant what I said too. You're already forgiven, but it means a lot to hear you say it. Thank you."

Zeke doesn't know what to say to that, so he nods, and his head hurts. He has the urge to kiss Casey but isn't sure if he's that completely forgiven that it's up to him right now.

"I hope that means the ghosts will leave you alone from now on," Casey says. "But we're still getting rid of the rest of the scat."

"Yeah, well, we can talk about that when we get back to New York."

"I guess we still have a lot to talk about."

It's more serious conversation than Zeke's had for a long time and Zeke thinks he should try to cut it off at this point, but something in Casey's tone brings back yet another horrible thought and he blurts out, "You don't wanna have kids, do you?"

"_What_?"

"Okay, thanks. Just something that occurred to me last night. Never mind."

"Are you – is _that_ what put you in such a bad mood? Should I avoid playing with babies if I don't want you to attack me from now on?"

"I said never mind!"

But Casey's laughing hysterically, overcome and unembarrassed and laughing as only Casey can (he'd be acting exactly the same if they were surrounded by strangers or former classmates) and then Zeke forgets to worry about how many points he's gained or lost, just reaches for the guy and pulls him into a kiss, and somehow Casey's kissing back and still laughing at the same time, and it's everything Zeke wants. Even though his face still hurts.

"We don't have to talk about that when we get back to New York," Casey says finally. "Not for a long, long time, anyway."

"Okay," says Zeke.

"No babies, no ghosts, no aliens, no bio teachers, no football players…"

"Just you and me."

"Please."

"Okay."


End file.
